Blended
by LittleTortillaDaddy
Summary: Hizashi, Shouta, and Toshinori each manage a balance regarding their work and home lives. Hizashi has a decent balance until Shouta undoes that. Granted, it's well-meaning.


Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over 'My Hero Academia' nor am I profiting from this.

Pairing(s): Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yagi Toshinori | All Might/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic.

Warning(s): none.

Word Count: 1,253.

Inspired by my headcanon that Izuku and Tsuyu could be fraternal twins.

* * *

Hizashi has one simple rule regarding his hero work, radio performances, and home: keep it separate. Shouta manages a meticulous balance which others could only dream about while Toshinori's still deciding on his balance.

Hizashi usually manages a somewhat decent balance when it comes to his multiple lives. However, his current situation has pushed him into the unbalanced mess which he knows as surviving on coffee and curse words. Tingles shoot up and down his legs, punishment for squatting on the bathroom floor and crying. Tissues would be better than wet paper towels or toilet paper. His skin lacks the sensitivity Shouta and Toshinori have and their comfort supplies are already running low.

An intern hovers just outside the door. Her arms have been loaded down with cough drops, tissue boxes, and a carefully balanced iced coffee. Her tone remains patient despite being forced to wait with increasingly aching arms.

"We have to begin soon," she calls. "I've set your station up; nothing has been disturbed but some things have been added. Do you need anything else before we begin?"

A shake wouldn't hurt. A smack might just force him upright for a couple hours. Hizashi settles for a shaky breath, rising with even shakier knees.

"I might have some weepy moments during the show, but weepy heroes draw more listeners," he warns. "You better be prepared for those callers."

A coffee is pressed into his hand while she stuffs some tissues into his jacket pocket. "You've managed screaming teenage fanboys and fangirls calling in. I'm always shocked watching you greet them like butterflies disturbing a garden rather than little monsters trying to break eardrums."

Hizashi snorts and gives her hand a quick pat. "Have you been stealing tissues again? How many times have I told you? Cotton in the ears works far better than stuffing them with tissues."

Her smile edges towards maternal. "I won't remind you what happened the last time you went home with raw skin from using paper towels. I'll be in the next room should you need anything during the performance. Just give the signal and we'll take over."

"Thank you." He takes a deep breath and scrunches his shoulders up towards his ears. "I'll there in a minute."

"I'll get things prepared for you."

Hizashi waits until her footsteps fade before reciting his mantra.

"I am here for the listeners. I'm neither home or in hero mode. I must place these anxieties and personal feelings aside."

He hasn't completely stashed his feelings when he sits before the microphone, but his voice remains steady. He runs through his usual greetings before slumping forward with his elbows resting on the desk.

"I've missed you, dear listeners," he coos. "I realize we might have some new listeners and want to share my rule: home, hero, and regular work should remain separate. Sure, sometimes I offer peeks into my personal time but it should remain peeks, right? I've always been open on one thing, though…"

Hizashi pauses and heaves a dramatic sigh. "I've always been open to sharing stories regarding my beloved cat. Hyperthyroidism has been causing severe weight loss and combined with her age, we had few options. I was quite inconsiderate, searching for a miracle cure that would give us more time with her. I'm grateful for my patient partners that encouraged a long discussion and we came to a mutual decision. I ask my listeners to be patient as we navigate through this pain and encourage them to share animal stories."

Tonight, fanboys and fangirls don't attempt bursting his eardrums with overwhelmed squeaks and squeals.

Teenagers call in with cracking voices, sniffling apologies.

Elderly listeners recount their beloved animals, most gone with their childhood. Hizashi joins them in crying, laughing, and sharing stories. His listeners assist in weaving a firm, comfortable net for him to fall back on along with his coffee and tissues stash. It weaves a steady net, keeping him afloat through work and on the way home, but it crumples and then shatters once he steps through the door.

* * *

Toshinori lounges beneath a gigantic quilt covered with cat hair. A protein shake sits on the table, untouched and threatening to form a skin. Under the television glow, his emaciated face appears more sunken than usual.

"How was work?" Toshinori asks, gravelly voice drowning some commercial pushing canned cat foods. "You know, sometimes their flavors actually sound appealing…"

Hizashi toes his boots off with a grimace. His dinner waits in the oven, warm and somehow Toshinori will manage to make it taste fresh despite being hours old. Despite the inviting prospect, he shuffles toward the couch, waiting until he raises the quilt and allows him to snuggle into his bony chest. Just like every other snuggle session, he fails to morph them into one giant pro-hero.

"I'm emotionally drained, but the listeners were patient," he mumbles. "I shared that pain and we tried working through it together. Listeners were even willing to share their experiences in losing beloved pets."

His emaciated face twists into a smile. "Will there be a repeat? I might have something to share."

Everyone knows that listeners, especially those following heroes, much prefer variety. He's in a constant unspoken competition with the news to release stories first. Everyone should have somewhere that makes them feel comfortable enough to share personal things. Listeners have expressed grievances over financial woes, which means its probably unlikely counseling is affordable.

"I'll consider it," he promises, nuzzling into his boney chest, "I might add some animal-related music."

Somewhere, beneath ruined muscle and bone, his one lung wheezes as he laughs. His massive hands stroke up and down his back. In three minutes, Toshinori will use that quiet 'don't even attempt fighting' voice to remind him that he must eat dinner. Somehow, dinner will be both warm and still delicious. Toshinori won't allow them to have another campout in the living room, because collapsing there is easier than moving into the bedroom.

"I miss her, Toshi," he whispers. "I miss her."

Her jungle gym and scratching post sit untouched. Her toys are scattered somewhere beneath the couch and beds. Camping in the living room again would be so much better than seeing her hairs on his pillow. Shouta will eventually roll towards them in his sleeping bag. Toshinori will steal the blankets because he's too cold.

Camping here would be much easier. Camping here might develop a terrible habit.

His three minutes are over. Hizashi receives an absentminded forehead kiss. Right, he has to keep functioning despite the gnawing in his chest. Toshinori continues peppering his forehead with kisses as he rises off the couch. Hizashi turns into the bony chest, clutching his thin shirt as he moves toward their bedroom.

"You're not supposed to strain that injury," he whispers. "You know the rules…"

"I'm not straining anything, Hizashi. You're a feather. You might be an exhausted feather, but you're still a feather."

Toshinori remains quiet when his shirt becomes wet.

* * *

Hizashi wakes up with too many blankets tugged up to his chin and coffee on the nightstand. Shouta hovers in the doorway with an apologetic bashful expression.

"I'm much better sneaking around when hero work is involved," he mumbles. "I might have brought my work home last night."

"Whatever happened to our agreement: no more villains in the house? Have you forgotten what happened last time?"

Shouta opens his mouth just as a shriek cuts through the air. "I brought home some babies?"

"Multiple?"

"Twins."


End file.
